Christine Kanownik

What is left

Poems about the Earth

What is left

of skull, of humanwhen years happen too oftencome after you too fastsince we think we are the same everydaybut, really, we are pickledthen unpickled slowly

then the sweet sound of sunrisecrashing through your dreamsdream nights and your dream days

you tattoo my name or face on your thighyour thigh will agemy face will age on both our bodiesmy name, though, is immortal

I am sexually satisfied by the thought of people saying my name ten years from now

does it break? it doesn't breakbut let's say it does breakslet's say that something breaksand it cannot be fixed

and we were looking at it while it brokewe had nothing to do to with the breakingbut we were both present and observingdo we blame ourselves?yesit is our faultand we must make restorations for any damageswe must seal the day up to protect it from ourselves

Poems about the Earth

I think about you a lot

when I'm slicing into a grapefruitand digging out the grapefruitflesh with a spoon

or when I'm choppingan onion incorrectly

or juicingorange after orangeto make orange juice

I can no longerdigest any of this

but I like to leave itoutside your door

in case you get hungry

Christine Neacole Kanownik is founding editor/curator of The Electric Pumas, a poetry and digital media series. You can find her work in such places as: The Huffington Post, jubilat, MOTHERBOARD, EOAGH, H_NGM_N, and The Poetry Project Newsletter. She lives in Brooklyn.